Page 28 of Savagely Scarred

Alright, Olivia.

You’ve got this!

You have done way harder things in your life.

You take down criminals for fuck’s sake.

How hard can this be?

I let out a slow breath through pursed lips and stare at the pancake recipe on my phone. I can make cakes, cookies, brownies and other desserts like I own a damn bakery. How could I possibly screw up a pancake.

Sage is usually the one who makes our breakfast. And every other meal if I’m being honest. But yesterday seemed to take a lot out of him. Both physically and mentally. He had another fitful night of unpleasant dreams. Tossing. Turning. I lost track of how many times he had woken me up before I admitted defeat and trudged downstairs.

Now, I’m standing in the kitchen with nothing but one of his band tees on, contemplating my life’s choices.

I start playing music on my phone and then I get to work gathering all the dry ingredients, setting them on the island. Once I grab the eggs and milk from the fridge, I get a large mixing bowl out of the cupboard. Following the recipe precisely, I start adding each item to the bowl one by one.

As I start mixing it together, I feel something soft rubbing against my bare legs.

“Not now, Peaches. I’ll feed you in a little bit. I need to concentrate.”

She responds with a loud and angry meow before slumping down in front of her food dish.

I leave the bowl on the counter and squat down to pull a frying pan out of the lower cupboard. I set it on the stovetop and plop a slice of butter in while it heats up. Suddenly feeling extra confident, I grab the oranges out of the wooden bowl that sits near the sink and start chopping them in half on a cutting board.

Moving on, I grab the batter and pour some into the pan to make the first pancake and then sit the bowl down. Humming, I spin back around to face the island and stop abruptly when I see a ball of orange fur sitting on the countertop.

“Peaches!” I scold.

She stares back at me menacingly before glancing up at one of the pendant lights above her head.

“Don’t even think about it.” I point at her and glare.

She shifts her bright green eyes to me slowly.

And then… she defies me.

The cat launches herself in the air to latch onto the glass globe. I shriek and jump up to try and grab her while she literally swings from the fucking chandelier. Unable to reach her, I vault myself onto the counter, knocking things over and onto the floor.

A cloud of flour dust fills the air around me as I grip my hands around her middle. She’s holding on for dear life, while trying to kick me with her back feet.

“Let go you little shit,” I growl.

A shrill beeping pierces my ear drums, and I whip my head over my shoulder to see black smoke rising from the frying pan on the stove. My eyes widen in horror and Peaches finally releases her hold on the light. Sadie appears from the living room to join in with the smoke detector and barks in unison with it.

“Jesus Christ!”

A blur of skin appears in my peripheral vision as Sage runs to grab the frying pan and toss it in the sink. Peaches yowls and bolts out of my arms and the kitchen.

I slump down on the counter while Sage waves a hand towel back and forth under the smoke detector until it stops beeping. He tosses it aside and runs a hand down his face, taking in the scene before him. He bites his fist while a slow, deep chuckle spills out of him.

There’s flour everywhere. The counter. The floor. My hair. The batter bowl is on the floor, the pancake mix splattered all over the cupboards and marble floor. Sadie rushes over to lick it up.

I blink at him and my eyes start to sting.

“I just wanted to make you breakfast,” I mutter with dejection.

He steps into my parted legs dangling off the counter and pulls me into his bare chest with a reassuring hug.